Changing Me, Changing You
by ivoryghost
Summary: She was changing him. He had hardly realised that he was changing Harley, too. !Rated M for bad language and violent themes!
1. Little Eye Problem

**Joker/Harley  
Characters copyright to their creators and DC Comics.  
I do not own these characters, I only own the plot of the story.  
Quite bad language, and there are some what might be considered 'disturbing' aspects.  
This is my first ever Fan Fiction, R&R please!**

**Changing Me, Changing You**

**PART I  
Little Eye Problem  
**

The Joker sat strapped in his straight jacket at exactly 7 o'clock, all the shiny buckles pulled tightly across his dirty body in Arkham Asylum. He stared at the blank white wall in front of him, as he had been for the past hour, running a moist tongue across his nude lips. His make-up was confiscated, leaving him feeling like a naked clown. They said it contributed to his psychopathic schizophrenia. How rude of them. They think he's not capable of being a cold blooded murderer without the make up that covers his ruined face.

The Joker fidgeted, trying to loosen the iron grip hug of the straight jacket. The metal chair started jumping, forwards backwards slightly, making no noise on the padded floor, as the Joker started to get mad, his right temple pulsing with pressure. Joker stopped - he could hear the nurse scuttling down the corridor towards his cell. The night check.

Joker smirked to himself. He could hear the fear in her footsteps. He could imagine her, in her white overalls and leather moccasins. She was probably frowning, her eyebrows almost slipping down her nose, her lips taut and pursed, like they're sucking a wasp and her back rigid as she fumbled in her pocket for her swipe card.

Those bastard things. Oh, how he hated the swipe cards of Arkham Asylum. They were so pointless - he couldn't get out of his marshmallow room without one. Maybe that was the point, he thought.

Oh and there's the retina scan that they do after they swipe their silly bits of plastic. He hated them too. There was only three people who had retina scan access: his psychologist, Harleen Quinzel, the guard outside of his little white room and the night nurse.

Beep. "Access granted." The Joker mumbled under his breath.

"Night check." The nurse mumbled, as she picked up the tray she had lain on the floor when fumbling for her swipe card. "And food."

"I don't fucking want it." The Joker spat at her, as he flicked his eyes away from the blank wall and surveyed her with dangerous eyes.

"I'll leave it here for you, if you decide to eat it." The nurse said, as she put her swipe card in her breast pocket.

"Well, I can't eat it strapped in this damn jacket." Joker said, as he tried to inch closer to her, the metal chair dragging slightly across the padded floor. "Why don't you be a doll and untie the clown?"

The nurse ignored him and put the tray back on the floor. She pushed it towards him using her foot.

"That is really unsanitary." The Joker pointed out, as he pushed the tray back away from him with his plain ole tennis pumps. "My shoes, you see, haven't left this fucking clean room." He hated wearing them, he just wanted to shove them up someone's ass.

"Tough luck I'm afraid." The nurse said, mustering up enough courage as she could.

The Joker smacked his wet nude lips together in excitement.

"I do like it when a woman has a bit of fire in her." He said, grinning at her. The Joker was quite the pervert when he wanted to be.

The nurse ignored him, and moved closer, grabbing at his buckles and straps of the straight jacket. She pulled them tighter, just wanting to be sure, not really looking at what she was doing, perspiration beading her forehead. Her deep brown eyes were full of fear and worry, as her slender dark fingers fumbled across the straight jacket.

Little did she know, that The Joker had already dislocated his shoulder and got his arm free, which he suddenly jerked up and closed his hand around her pretty ebony throat.

"Did you really think you'd walk out of here alive, _nurse_?" The Joker said, grinning from ear to ear, his scars stretching out into an even bigger smile.

The nurse's brown eyes widened in horror, as she tried to claw at the Joker's hand, which was now squeezing tighter.

Asphyxiation was a boring way to kill, and die for that matter, he thought. He doesn't get a big enough thrill from it. It's like a drug addict taking weed after months of taking heroin. The high just isn't high enough.

The Joker dislocated his other shoulder, sliding his arm out. He relocated his shoulders with a quick _pop_! He clenched his hand into a fist, his knuckles colliding with her pretty defined cheekbone. She cried out, her hands slacking on his.

"Nurse, you need a retina scan to get out of here too, don't you?" He asked her, his voice raspy as she gurgled and gasped. Pathetic, he thought, as he watched the panic in her face.

"Answer me!" The Joker growled into her face, shaking her slightly as he pulled her closer to him. He jerked his head slightly, flipping green greasy hair out of his nude face. She nodded feebly.

Joker wondered where the guard was. He'd probably slipped downstairs, hoping for ten minutes to scoff his face with sticky doughnuts. Oh, nothing will happen, the guard had thought. .

Oh but something _is_ going to happen, the Joker thought gleefully. Never leave a psychotic, bloodthirsty clown alone, not when he's due for a night check with a hot nurse that fucks him off by trying to feed him shit fucking hospital food when he doesn't even _want _it.

"Open the door." He ordered. "Don't even think of making a run for it sweetie, I will hunt you down like a dog and rip your throat out." The ebony nurse whimpered, and scuttled over to the door on her hands and knees, after the Joker threw her down on the floor in disgust.

He flexed his fingers. Her face was skinnier than he thought, as mild pain flickered through his knuckles. The Joker shrugged it off. He was used to pain, he'd felt worse and the best thing about it was that he_ liked_ it.

"Do hurry up dear, I have a date with Gotham City." The Joker mused, as he unbuckled the buckles of the straight jacket with great difficulty. He could feel the annoyance, anger and irritation bubble up inside him. Joker was starting to feel aggravated; he hadn't sliced anyone's mouth open in a while.

He felt deprived of all things he loved, not that he knew what it was like to love. Taking away the ability to kill at will was like taking an ice lolly off a five year old. Cruel and unfair.

The Joker stood up off the chair and flung it into a corner, like it was a cushion. He felt strong and free, a grin spread across his pale face. Now for my make-up, he thought, as he ran a naked hand (they didn't allow him his little purple gloves either, much to the Joker's distaste) over his chin.

He watched impatiently as the nurse repeated the retina scan over and over, unable to keep still from all the pathetic whimpering she was doing. The Joker rolled his eyes and tapped his feet silently against the floor.

"Do you know what happens to a stupid little nurse whore who makes a clown impatient?" The Joker asked, as he walked up behind her. He stroked her neck, making her shiver. His other hand slid across her breasts, making the nurse jump.

"This." The Joker whipped the swipe card from her breast pocket and with such force, shoved it in her mouth and yanked it upwards at the corner, slitting open her left cheek, all the way up to her eye. The nurse didn't have time to scream, as she went crashing down to the floor, the Joker's dead impassive eyes following her.

"Shame." The Joker said, as he pocketed the bloody swipe card and knelt down next to the nurse. "Now, what are we going to do about this little eye problem, huh?"

Her eyes were glassy and staring blankly at the sealed door as the blood poured from her mouth, staining the clean floor and the joker's tennis shoes. He could feel the blood seep across the linen of his shoes, as he tightened his shoelace casually.

The Joker turned her dead face towards him, and without a thought of hesitation, he jammed his thumb and index finger into her eyeball, gauging it out of the socket with a sickening squelch.

"Problem solved." He cackled to himself.

His thoughts flickered to Harleen Quinzel, his pretty blonde psychologist. _Dr_. Harleen Quinzel. He could still remember the day he first saw her, standing at his door, peering at him with wide blue eyes through the pane of glass. There was something in those eyes that day. _Interest._ Nobody had ever looked at the Joker with _interest _before.

He hated these moments of 24 hours. Random times throughout the day, even night, he would spend ages thinking of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, the conversations they had during their sessions, the way her pretty manicured nail would make invisible patterns on her clipboard. The way she'd cock her head to one side and spend a long time just _staring_ at him. Staring at _him_!

Joker shook his head, frowning. He suddenly crash landed back to the padded room, remembering he was planning his Great Escape. His Great Escape involved the pretty dead eye of Nurse whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was that lay bloody and motionless in his palm.

He stared down at it, before putting the eyeball between his index finger and thumb. Putting the eye in front of the retina scan, which was behind the glass of his door, on the opposite wall outside, he waited for the recognised beep. Amazingly, it was able to pick up the eye from that far away, through a pane of glass. Modern technology, he thought disgustedly.

Everything had to be modern, these days! Not that he was really complaining, he did like to wear the most modern purple suit he could find, he did love the latest guns, even though his greatest weapons were his mind and hands.

He threw the eye down by the one eyed nurse, who's eye socket was dark and empty, like a great chasm of nothing.

"Here, you can have it back." He said, chuckling to himself as he swiped the bloody Arkham Asylum swipe card. Beep beep of recognition and the door slid open smoothly, granting consent of freedom.

He pocketed the swipe card again and slipped out of the door. The Joker breathed in air. For months he had felt suffocated in that tiny clean white room that seemed to just engulf him like a constant blanket of again, nothing!

The Joker scraped his hair out of his face again with the palm of his hand. He walked slowly down the corridor, with the depressing scenery of ageing pale blue tiles of the walls and the blank dirty beige floors.

His dirty old blue shirt clung to him with sweat, his tie a skew. The Joker tugged at it, adjusting it and smoothed out his shirt. Might as well make my amazing exit in style, such as shame I'll kill anyone who witnesses, he thought. He cackled to himself under his breath, his hands now in his pockets.

"Oi! What are you doing out!" Someone behind him shouted. The Joker half turned, already knowing who it was. The guard, probably holding a box of pink icing doughnuts. The Joker had watched him eat them outside his door nearly every day at noon. The fucking guard did it on purpose the bastard, shovelling the sticky carbs in his mouth.

The Joker never liked doughnuts. It was just the fact that it was non hospital food, that he watched the guard. It actually amused him, watching the guards efforts that failed because the Joker never really cared.

Food: Something he'd been pretty much starving himself from. Who wants to eat a pile of microwaved bullshit?

"Well, I was going for a walk." The Joker replied, as he turned around to face the guard. Well well, The Joker thought, as he eyed the guard with sure enough, his box of pink doughnuts.

"Oh no, I don't think so." The guard said as he moved towards the Joker, who was still standing there with his hands in his pockets.

The guard wasn't the brightest of men, the Joker had learned. Most of the staff here at Arkham knew to keep a Taser or two in the pockets of their uniforms, overalls whichever whatever. Even a Taser wouldn't keep the Joker down, so they load their pockets full of tranquillisers, sedatives blah blah blah.

Quite ironic actually; he relished the electric pulse through his body at god knows how many volts, he relished the groggy feeling of waking up from a tranquilliser and the feel of sedatives as they run through his bloodstream.

The Joker watched, amused, as the guard advanced towards him, still trying to stuff his mouth with doughnut, the box tucked safely under his arm.

Who did he think he was? Trying to go after the Joker, the_ Joker,_ with only a box of doughnuts as a defence? Well, it's hardly defence if the guard's eating it. Sugar rush, the Joker thought as he noticed the guard had totally forgotten all his real weapons in his pockets and holsters.

"I think so, fatty. Going for a walk isn't a crime." The Joker said, as he continued to stand there.

"When it's you taking a walk, yes it is." The guard said. "I'm calling for backup."

"Calling for backup?" The Joker laughed, his voice going high when he said "backup". He doubled over a for a second, his hands still in his pockets. He straightened up. "You call yourself a_ guard_?"

"Shut up clown!" The guard yelled, putting his box of doughnuts on the floor and searching his holsters for his Taser.

"Don't you people _ever learn_?" The Joker asked impatiently, jumping up and down frantically, his hands going up in the air wildly in exasperation. "They don't fucking work!"

"I suggest you calm down right now, freak." The guard said, switching to a fighting stance, his Taser held out in front of him, cackling electricity.

The Joker rolled his eyes and removed his hands casually from his pockets.

"I'm not..I'm not a freak." The Joker said quietly, shaking his head.

"You are, _freak_. Now just shut the fuck up!" The guard shouted, shuffling towards him.

The Joker sighed. He hated having to explain himself to people. Not that they ever really listened. He liked to talk though, he liked to fuck up their minds before he kills them. But tonight, he couldn't be arsed. Joker just wanted to kill the bastard already.

"Normally I'd give some giant mind fuck speech, that gets the victim in such a panic and frenzy that they end up begging for mercy. I do love when a person begs for their life. It's so..so pathetic you know?" The Joker said as he walked towards the horrified and sickened guard (a look that often graced the faces of the Joker's victims, and it was a look the Joker quite revelled in) who was now backing up. "Are _you_ going to beg for your life?"

"I warn you, back off!" The guard shouted, fear taking over him as his legs started to shake.

The Joker just continued to walk towards the guard, who was starting to walk backwards faster. The Joker surveyed him, his head low, his eyes all the way up in his sockets, the vision of the guard the only thing he kept his eyes on.

"Why don't you be a good little boy and come say Hi to the clown?" The Joker said, his mouth pulling up into an evil smile. "He doesn't bite. Most of the time."

The guard let out a whimper as he hit the wall behind him. He gripped the taster tightly in one hand, and with the other started shuffling it across the wall, to the fire drill that was inches away from his now outstretched fingers...

The Joker didn't seem to notice as he continued to stare into the guards fearful eyes. He saw everything – the guard's last thoughts, his terror and his fear, his emotions just swam across those pathetic eyes. The Joker was now so close to him, he could see his own reflection in the emerald eyes that stared up at the Joker.

The guard suddenly pulled down the lever of the fire drill, which rang through his and the Joker's ears, screaming into their eardrums.

"Now why did you have to go and do that for?" The Joker said, as he grabbed the Taser out of the guard's hands (he seemed to have totally forgotten he was holding it, the sad excuse of a guard.)

The guard spat in the Joker's face, as one last effort of repulsion for him. The Joker stood there for a few seconds, the anger rising inside him like a thermometer in the desert at noon.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's_ rude_ to spit?"

Then he shoved the Taser in the guards mouth, angled it upwards so it rested on the roof of his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

White hot electricity sizzled up the guards face, through his eyes which exploded in their sockets, over his skull and into his brain, which fried like bacon on a barbecue in the middle of July.

The Joker grinned to himself as he removed the Taser gun and threw it on the floor, next to the crumpled and smoking guard. He wiped the spit of his face with his shirt sleeve.

Joker knelt down and tore off the guard's jacket and put it on. He smoothed it out and grinned;

"Nice."

Sliding his hands back in his pockets, he turned on his heel and walked down the corridor towards the exit.


	2. Not Everyday Panties

**PART II.  
Not Everyday Panties**

Harleen Quinzel sat at her kitchen table, the Joker's medical file sat open in front of her. She sighed, and picked up his black and white photograph.

She stares down at the monochrome Joker, who's make-up had been wiped clean off. He's staring back up at her, with malicious eyes, his head slightly bent, his hair messy and greasy just the way she likes it.

She put the photograph back in the file and shut it. Harleen glanced at the clock. 8.30pm. She couldn't wait until 6.30am.

She liked the morning sessions she had with the Joker. Sometimes they'd talk, talk about his dream from the previous night, what he wanted for breakfast, if he wanted anything at all. He quite liked eggs, poached actually. Arkham ever only served it scrambled though, which she knew the Joked hated. Sometimes, however, they'd just sit there and stare at each other for an hour.

Harleen Quinzel never really had much confidence, so when she volunteered to analyse the Joker as part of her intern ship she'd surprised her fellow colleagues. She knew that taking up the Joker's case would change her career, but little did she know that it would change her entire life too.

Harleen glanced at the Victoria Secret bag that was sitting on the chair next to her, unopened. She picked it up and walked up the stairs and into her bedroom. Leaving the door ajar, she peeled out of her casual clothes (her boss at Arkham had told her there was no need for her to go in that day, much to Harleen's annoyance and disappointment.)

Stripping off her underwear, she stood in front of the mirror naked. Sighing she opened the bag and stepped into the lacy black panties, pulling them up over her thighs. She slipped into the matching lacy bra, and fastened it securely at the back.

Harleen did a little twirl in the mirror, her blonde hair bobbing on her shoulders for a few seconds. Harleen wasn't a confident woman, she always thought she wasn't good enough. Her last boyfriend, never appreciated her body, which lowered the little self esteem she had into nothing.

"Give us another twirl, Doc." A deep voice said from the shadow of her open doorway. Harleen jumped, instantly grabbing at her body with a shriek. Then she stopped, realising who it was..

"Joker.." She whispered, her arms falling limply to her sides.

The Joker grinned, as he saw the flicker of recognition in her shocked face.

"Give us another twirl." He repeated, eyeing her as he leant against the door frame of her bedroom with his arms folded across his dirty shirt (he had discarded the guard's jacket in a backstreet garbage bin).

He watched as Harleen Quinzel gave him an awkward spin, the contours of her curves illuminated in the soft light of the dim lamp on her bedside table. The Joker felt something dormant stir inside him, from the very core of him, and it _scared _him.

His spine gave a tiny shiver as he continued to watch her. She stopped and stood there in the middle of her bedroom, staring at him, waiting for the Joker to make a comment. He didn't, he just gave her a tiny impressed smile. She blushed.

"How..how did you get _out_?" She whispered. "How did you get _in_?" The Joker smiled and walked towards her. Harleen's heart thumped wildly in her chest, for more than one reason. Fear mingled with excitement as the Joker sat down on her bed, and motioned for her to join him. He leant back against her ghost white pillows, lifting his legs onto her bed too, crossing his left leg over the right one.

"I killed the night nurse." He said casually, like he had just announced he was making a cup of tea.

Harleen sat there, in the dim darkness, stunned and awed, both at the same time, much to her confusion.

"You _killed_ the night nurse?" He heart was thumping in her chest.

"Of course I did. And the fat guard who likes doughnuts." The Joker said, watching her as she took all this in. Harleen suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, flinging herself backwards on the bed, landing on his legs with a bit of a bump. She didn't seem to realise as she rolled over, facing him, laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" The Joker asked, alarmed, frowning.

"Nothing.." She said as she finally stopped laughing, wiping a tear from her eye. She rolled over onto her back, still lying on the Joker's legs. He didn't seem to mind.

"Why did you come here?" She asked.

"Do you not want me here?" The Joker asked, looking down at her with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Of course I do!" She exclaimed quickly, sitting up suddenly. The Joker raised an inquiring eyebrow, an amused look on his face. Harleen opened her mouth then closed it again. "I- I just..wondered." She finished hopelessly.

"That's good." The Joker rubbed his belly. "You got any food?"

Harleen got up off the bed and pulled on her silky robe, which she teasingly left open, the ribbon floating by her sides.

"What would you like?" She asked him as she made her way into the hall.

"The entire contents of your kitchen, sweets." The Joker said as he settled himself more comfortably on her king sized bed. The Joker wondered who she shared it with, if she ever did share it with anyone. He stroked the silky quilt, his mind wandering back to the image of Harleen Quinzel twirling in front of her floor length mirror..the pang in his chest and the dormant feeling in the pit of his stomach made him mentally kick himself. Hard.

Harleen leant over the kitchen sink, shaking. She poured herself a glass of water and gulped it down, barely stopping to breathe. The Joker had escaped from Arkham. She slammed the glass into the bowl of the sink and walked over to the fridge, where she emptied the entire contents out into a basket. Next she raided the cake cupboard. Did the Joker like cake? He definitely did not like doughnuts.

"Hurry the fuck up would you dear?" The Joker yelled from the bedroom as Harleen quickly made her way up the stairs, a bread bun toppling out of the full basket and bobbing back down the stairs. She walked into the bedroom, shutting it behind her with her bare foot.

Harleen joined the Joker on the bed, the basket overflowing with delicious food.

"I have everything in here; bread, cakes, cheese, ooh and there's some fruit at the bottom and I think I picked up a few cheeseburgers too." Harleen said, as she started to unload all the food onto the bed.

"Hm, I haven't had a cheeseburger for ages." The Joker said as he picked one up and took a big bite. He relished the taste of the cheese and the meat as it slid down his throat.

"They do cheeseburgers in the canteen at Arkham." Harleen pointed out, as she picked up a cupcake. The Joker threw the cheeseburger at her head.

"Do not mention that vile place to me!" Joker screeched, his temper rising. He wished he could have hit her with something that would hurt. She was too far away for a punch and the lamp would have killed her instantly, which was something the Joker for once in his psychotic life didn't want to do. He was surprised at himself. The Joker was, however, capable of killing her whether he wanted to or not, whether he felt something or not. Right now he felt scared, scared that there was a human being in the world who he didn't want to kill.

"Sorry." Harleen said, crawling along the bed, over the food, until she was sitting comfortably next to him, their shoulders touching. There was a moments silence – as they sat there, on Harleen's silky bed, littered with food.

The clock ticked away in the hall and the occasional car passed Harleen's apartment block.

"So.." Harleen said, as she threw the wrapper of her chocolate bar on the bed by her feet.

"So, Doc." Joker said as he kicked the empty basket off the bed. "What's the occasion?" He asked.

"The occasion?" She asked him in reply, confused. She heard the Joker sigh, impatiently.

"Well, these panties don't look like they're everyday panties.." He said, as he fingered the lace of her panties at the hip. Harleen closed her eyes in the dim light, the touch of the Joker's fingers on her skin made her shiver in excitement. "Did you realise I was coming over, Harley?"

_Harley_. He called her_ Harley_. Nobody had ever called her _Harley_ before.

"N-no I just wanted to see what I looked like in them." Harley said, flushing bright red.

"Well.." The Joker said, as he leant close to her bare shoulder. He moved his nude lips across the skin of her shoulder, making her shudder. He smiled as he felt the shiver of Harley's excitement.

"Joker." She said firmly, trying to push him away. She was surprised at herself, wasn't this what she'd been dreaming about since the night she met him? So why was she pushing him away?

"Harley." The Joker replied, looking up at her. "Oh I see. Doctor, patient thing. I get it." He said, shrugging in a oh-well kind of way.

"No!" Harley almost shouted. "No, I-I just..." She trailed off, looking away. Suddenly the Joker grabbed her, dragged her forcefully off the bed onto the floor and straddled her, his hands gripping her wrists as she struggled against him for a moment, before falling limp underneath him.

Harley's heart pounded in her chest as she felt the heat radiating off the Joker's body.

"Harley, Harley, Harley. My beautiful little Harlequin." The Joker mused. "What's wrong dear?"

"Joker-"

"No. I have a pet name for you, why don't you make a pet name for me?" The Joker said, leaning so close to her, their noses were almost touching.

"Puddin'?" She said, suddenly embarrassed. She couldn't_ believe _she had just said that _out loud!_

"That didn't take long. I guess you'd already been calling me that in your head, huh?" Joker said as he leant even closer. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just..I..I.. I can't." She replied.

"Why fucking not?" The Joker screeched, giving her a hard shake. Harley almost felt her organs jiggle inside her.

"Because I'm scared." She whispered back, a tear leaking out of her eyes. The Joker looked taken aback. He leant away from her, still looking at her.

"That's part of the beauty of it, Harley Quinn." He said, letting of one of her wrists and giving her chin a little stroke.

"But-" Harley started.

"No buts, Harley." Joker said as he let go of her other wrist and got off her, rolling onto the floor where he crossed his legs. Harley lay there, on the floor, panting, her body still in the same position, her hands up by her head.

Slowly, Harley sat up. She crawled over to the Joker on bare knees and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Have I upset you'?" She asked nervously, biting her lip.

"Yes you have." He said, shrugging out of her grasp. Harley was shocked, her eyes prickling with tears. No, she thought, I won't cry!

"I'm sorry." She whispered, leaning her back on his, her legs straight out. The Joker leant his head against hers, making Harley smile. She felt like she was the only person in the entire world who actually meant something to the Joker. She did mean something to him, didn't she?

"Joker?" She asked.

"Puddin'" He corrected.

"Puddin'?" Harley flushed.

"Yes, Harley?" Joker replied, his mouth twitching.

"Do I mean anything to you?" She asked, fiddling with her curly blonde hair.

"Of course you do. You're my shrink." Joker said. She felt him shrug. She sighed lowly, her heart felt like it had suddenly deflated, like someone had stabbed it with a pin.

"Psychologist." Harley corrected. Joker didn't reply.

"Puddin'?" Harley asked again. The Joker sighed.

"Harley."

"How did you get your scars?" She asked. The Joker let out a grumbled laugh.

"You ask me this every time we have a session, and I don't answer you. What makes you think I'm going to give you an answer now?" The Joker said.

"Because you're sitting on my bedroom floor." Harley replied. The Joker shrugged.

He lightly touched his scars. He removed his hand before saying; "I'll tell you one day, Harley."

She didn't reply.

An hour passed in silence, as they sat there, back to back, head to head, in the silence and the dim light. Harley's head dropped to her chest. Joker moved his own head and twisted around to look at her. Sure enough, Harley had fell asleep in her pretty laced underwear.

He moved away from her and stood up, where she fell backwards onto the floor. She curled up and turned over to her side. The Joker watched her for a moment or two, before sighing. He scooped her up in his arms and tore back the sheets of the bed and half dropped, half lay her down on the bed. He flung the covers over her awkwardly. Was he supposed to do that romantically? The Joker shrugged; he never had been a romantic man.

He watched her again for a moment or two. He watched the calm up down movement of her diaphragm, the parting of her pale rosy lips as she breathed. Joker watched as she clung to the sheets, curled her legs up towards her torso. She let out a tiny yawn.

The Joker turned his back on Harley, the pang of his chest returning. He'd have to do something about that. Emotions wasn't something the Joker dealt with well. They felt alien, unfamiliar, foreign. Emotions _scared_ him.


	3. No Pleasure In A Gift

**PART III.  
No Pleasure In A Gift**

Harley's alarm clock went off at 5.30am. She groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes and flicking her blonde hair, which was now a total mess, out of her eyes.

Rolling out of bed, which was still littered with cheeseburgers and cakes, Harley remembered what had happened last night.

"Joker?" She called, as she went downstairs.

"Puddin'?" Harley tried again. She sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. The Joker's medical file lay open on the table. She was sure she had closed it..

Picking it up, a note fell out from the back.

_I have business to attend to.  
Mister J._

Harley's heart pounded. Business? He probably had a few people to kill off, she thought casually. She was surprised at how calmly she thought of that. What was happening to her? Putting her head in her hands, she felt like she wanted to cry and scream. Her head was pounding and she had never had her head so messed up like this before. She hoped Joker would be okay, what if he got caught and was sent back to Arkham? No, Puddin' is tough, she told herself sternly. Harley gave herself a shake and carefully folded up the note and put it in a kitchen drawer.

Dragging herself upstairs she had a quick shower and changed into her usual work clothes: short black mini skirt, white ruffled blouse, black plain heels and her overall lab coat.

Grabbing her briefcase and the Joker's medical file, she set out to work, grabbing a taxi.

"Arkham Asylum please." She said breathlessly to the taxi driver as she clambered into the back, shoving the Joker's file into the briefcase.

"Sure thing." The taxi driver said, squinting at her in the rear view mirror. Harley ignored him. She was quite used to men staring at her and flocking to her.

"Arkham you say?" The taxi driver said after ten minutes.

"Yes." Harley said wistfully as she stared out into the dull early morning.

"That mental place where they got that Joker dude locked up?" The taxi driver asked.

"I heard he escaped last night." Harley said through gritted teeth, giving a tiny shrug to the taxi driver who glanced at her in the mirror.

"Oh yeah, but apparently he got caught again this morning. He was found drunk out of his tree in a backstreet. He should have been left to die." The taxi driver said, taking a right.

Harley's heart pounded. She suddenly felt sick.

"He was found? Drunk?" She said.

"Yeah apparently. He's back in Arkham. You work there? Ya sure don't look like a shrink to me." The taxi driver said as he eyed her lab coat and briefcase as she got out the taxi which had pulled up outside Arkham Asylum.

"Who found him?" She asked, ignoring him.

"Batman."

Fucking Batman, she thought. What fully grown man dresses up as a big fucking bat to try and save a city that doesn't even need saving anyway? Then again, who dresses up like a clown to kill people? A lot of people, actually, she tried to convince herself with no avail.

She handed the taxi driver five dollars and hurried into Arkham.

"Where is he?" Harley demanded, slamming her briefcase on the receptionist's desk, still holding onto the handle. The receptionist looked up, startled, staring at Harley with big eyes behind her scarlet cat like glasses.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"The Joker! Where is he? He's my patient." Harley almost shouted.

"!" Harley turned around at the sound of her name. She sighed and rolled her eyes. It was her boss.

"What?" She snapped, walking over to him with her briefcase. Her boss looked taken aback at her tone but decided to ignore it for now.

"The Joker is back in his normal room. We found him this morning dr-"

"Drunk in a backstreet, yes I know. And _you _didn't find him, _Batman _did." Harley said as she pushed past him impatiently. Harley checked her watch; almost six thirty.

"Where are you going?" Her boss called as he hurried after her.

"I have a 6.30 morning session with him." She called behind her shoulder, not looking back.

"Do you not realise how much of a state he's in right now?" Her boss asked, incredulous.

Harley stopped and turned to face him, with a stone cold stare.

"All the more reason to see him then." Harley said. She turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor. "And I suggest you don't try and stop me." She called back to him, not looking around.

The Joker's eyes snapped open at the sound of Harleen Quinzel's voice. He was lying, strapped in his morning straight jacket, on a all too familiar bed that wasn't silk like Harley's, in his cell at Arkham fucking Asylum. The Joker fidgeted frustratedly, growling.

He heard the beep of the retina scan, the swipe of the swipe card and the sound of the sliding door. Dr. Harleen Quinzel came through the door, her hair a mess from aggravation and the wind, her lab coat on inside out and her blouse all rumpled. She didn't look the perfect vision as she always did.

She looked flustered when she practically threw herself into the Joker's room. She looked at him and blinked. Harley's body seemed to slack slightly in relief.

A guard (a new one, the Joker noticed with glee) had walked in behind Harley.

", are you alright?" The guard asked, a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it away.

"Get out." She ordered, not taking her eyes off the Joker's. He was now grinning broadly.

"I'm sorry?" The guard said.

"Get the fuck out of this room now." She said. "This is a private session and I don't want you or any one else even in a five foot radius of this room. "

The guard gave her a funny look, but walked out all the same, letting the door slide shut behind him. Joker and Harley listened to the sound of his footsteps fade away.

Joker and Harley stared at each other. Harley dropped her briefcase on the floor with a thump.

"Joker." She whispered. She looked at him properly and gasped. His left eye was bloody and swollen. His bottom lip was pulsing with blood, dripping down his chin and down his neck. His jaw looked bruised and battered. He had stitches in his forehead. He was a mess.

Harley walked over to the Joker and sat on his bed next to him. Joker just looked at her.

"Joker." She whispered again, reaching a hand out towards his face.

"Harley." He whispered back. Right there Harley Quinn and The Joker had a moment. A real moment.

"What did he do to you?" She whispered as she wiped the blood from his mouth and chin with the sleeve of her lab coat.

"I let him beat me up. Needed to feel pain. I got drunk too." The Joker shrugged, surprised at himself. He finds himself spouting out his heart, the truth to this woman at the most strangest of times. "I'll get him back though. I'll get him Harley."

"Of course you will, Puddin'." She replied, smiling as she began to unbuckle his straight jacket.

"Hurry up with these things." He said. Finally he was free. He motioned for Harley to lie down next to him.

"Puddin'?" She asked.

"Harley." He said.

"Did you attend to your business?" She asked, making patterns on his chest with her dainty manicured fingers. That strange feeling squeezed his stomach together.

"I did. I planted the bomb in the bank. It'll explode at exactly noon this afternoon." He said, giving her a smile as he stroked her blonde hair with dirty fingers. He wrapped an arm around her body, surprising himself. Still, he didn't move it away.

"Is it money you're after?" She asked.

"No. Well, sort of. I need to buy a new suit." He grinned. She smiled back.

"I could buy you one." She offered, blushing.

"Sweet but Harl, there's no pleasure in a gift. Buying something you want with someone else's stolen money – or the entire of Gotham City's money – is more satisfying. You get what I'm saying Harl?"

"I think. You're saying if you want something you should use other people to get it?" Harley said slowly, figuring it out in her head.

"Exactly Harl!" He said, clenching her hair in his hand in excitement.

She smiled proudly.

"Is it the same with everything, Puddin'?" She asked, her head on his chest now.

"Of course it is! You just take whatever the fuck you want." He said.

"Like murder. You take someone's life because you want to."

"Oh, my dear Harley. You are a natural, you know that?" Joker said, laughing, baring his yellow stained teeth.

"Why thank you Mistah J." She said, kicking off her heels. He noticed she'd used his signature. This made him almost _glow_.

"Why do you wear those silly things?" Joker asked, eyeing them on the floor, distracting himself from this weird glowing feeling. "Apart from they're good to stab someone with."

"They make me feel pretty." Harley said sheepishly.

"But you _are _pretty Harley. Most of the time." Joker replied.

Harley's heart went crazy inside her ribcage. She suddenly felt wanted and appreciated. Her spirits rose immensely.

"You were rather mean just." Joker pointed out.

Harley recalled the moment with her boss. She groaned.

"Yes I was."

"What's wrong with that? With sticking up for your self Harl?" Joker said.

"He'll probably end up firing me. And I was sticking up for you."

"No he won't, he enjoys perving on his young pretty blonde intern." Joker said. He felt her shudder. His arms tightened around her automatically. Protectively."And as for sticking up for me, well I can take care of myself."

"I know you can but I just panicked." Harley said defensively.

"It felt good though, didn't it?" Joker said giving her cheek a stroke. Harley didn't reply.

She had to admit though, it did feel good. It felt so damn fucking good. She felt strong, _powerful_.

"How are we going to get you back out of here?" Harley asked, looking at him. He smiled broadly at her again.

"Ah, that's for you to figure out. Break me out of here baby." Joker said, as he leant down close to her, his face inches from hers. She stopped breathing for a second..but the Joker simply leant forwards, his forehead touching hers and his eyes closed. His chest thumped painfully, he felt like his heart was going to explode.

The Joker wasn't capable of loving, he _knew_ that. So what the fuck was that weird feeling that was tugging at his heart strings? Was Harleen Quinzel.._changing_ him? The only person he'd ever loved was his mother, and even she was a fucked up little junkie.

"I will, I promise." Harley said, as she looked at his closed eyes. "I will."


	4. We All Have Demons

**PART IIII.  
We All Have Demons  
**

They'd dragged Harley out of the Joker's room at exactly seven o'clock. She was lying, curled up on the end of the bed, asleep with a pulsing black eye. They had grabbed the Joker roughly by the scruff of his neck like he was some dirty bone gnawing animal, and pushed him onto the bed where they wrestled him into an even tighter straight jacket than the last.

He had managed to take one of the nurses out, however. He had grabbed him by the shoulder and gave it a hard tug, hearing the tendons rip as the nurse wailed in pain and horror. He had recoiled from the Joker like he was a deadly anaconda. The Joker certainly felt like wrapping his hands around the nurse's ginger head and giving it a good old squeeze.

He was currently sat in the dining room, on a plastic old orange chair, with his plastic knife and fork and a plate of mash and sausage. The Joker wasn't a big fan of mash. Not unless it was someone's brain that had been mashed or the make-up on his face. God, he did wish they'd fucking give him back his make-up already. Joker recalled he had been told he'd get his lipstick if he ate all his bangers and mash for the next two weeks. Fuck that, he thought.

The Joker stared down at his bangers and mash, not looking up to the two, no,_ three _nurses and a security guard – no wait, there was _another _one by the door – that were sitting opposite him on his table. He chose to ignore them, like he always did. This is how it went every day. They'd sit there and watch him just stare at his food, his knife and fork in hands which rested on the table, for a good half hour of lunch, until they got fed up and dragged him back to the room.

"I want to go back to my room." The Joker said, giving the corner of his mouth a compulsive lick.

"Tough. Your half hour isn't up yet." The nurse said, glancing at his watch. A minute. The Joker rolled his eyes and snapped his knife in two. They all flinched, much to his delight. He didn't do anything with the broken pieces. However the Joker wondered how fast his reflexes were; would he be able to jump up fast enough to ram the fork in the nurse's eye and the knife in another's?

"I want, I want to go to my room." The Joker mumbled, watching his hands pound lightly against the table as he clenched his fists around the two broken pieces of knife and his fork. Lick lick went his tongue in the corner of his mouth. Seconds ticked by.

"Now your half hour is up." The nurse said smugly, amusement in his voice, as he stood up, motioning to the two security guards who grabbed the Joker from behind, under his arms and yanked him up from his orange seat. They confiscated his untouched food and plastic cutlery, which they rudely snatched from his curled up hands.

The Joker allowed himself to be dragged along the floor, his legs limp and his arms held up high in odd angles. Retina scan, beep beep, swipe card.. The normal boring procedure, the Joker recognised. It was beginning to sound like a stuck record.

They threw him in his room and walked out. No straight jacket today, the Joker thought. He must have done something right.

"Oi!" The Joker yelled as he rapped on the window of his door. He motioned threateningly to one of the nurses, with his dirty index finger, who reluctantly turned back. She peered at him.

"What about my suit?" The Joker said.

"Suit?" The nurse asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, the one with the handsome buckles." The Joker gave a laugh.

"Somebody requested you not have to wear the straight jacket for at least a day." The nurse replied. _Harley_, the Joker thought. Bless that bitch.

"But I like my straight jacket!" The Joker wailed like a small child. And he did. He liked the feel of it squeezing his body tight, like he almost couldn't breathe, paralysed, and escaping by dislocating his shoulders. Admittedly, it did get boring after being in the straight jacket for a good couple of hours, but the beginning thrill was exhilarating.

The nurse left, leaving the Joker staring out the window at the wall opposite. Harley, was all he could think about. He narrowed his eyes and turned away. He sat down on his bed.

Joker wondered where she was. She was probably at home with a bag of peas on her black eye. He couldn't even remember why he had socked her one in her pretty blue eye any ways. He couldn't recall her pissing him off. He shrugged; sometimes he just liked to hit people, and it wasn't like Harley would really resist to being his personal little punch bag.

Oh, how the Joker found himself longing for her. Longing. He wanted to smell her strawberry scented blonde hair and stroke her bare skin... The Joker punched the side of his face suddenly. He rammed his head against the wall, screaming as he did so in rage. He tugged at his hair and scratched at his skin.

He didn't like this. This whole, _feeling _business. The Joker hated emotions, repulsed by them. This feeling made him want to double over and retch them up, until they don't inhabit his body any more. He'd only ever felt glee, and triumph, and pride. This, this was new. So foreign, alien. He hated it, and in some truth, he was completely terrified.

"Calm down Clown." The guard said threateningly from the other side of the glass. The Joker growled at him, but didn't move off the bed. He was tired, but he refused to sleep, or else he'd dream about _her. _

Joker put his head in his hands, his fingertips scrunching up his hair. What the hell was happening to him? He needed to distract himself, he couldn't bring himself to comprehend the fact that she was changing him. He had hardly realised that he was changing Harley, too.

Harley was sat at home, curled up on the sofa, a bag of peas on her pulsing eye, just like the Joker had envisioned her. She sighed to herself, flicking through the channels on the television, her eyes wandering the screen, hardly focusing. Her head was starting to freeze over, the cold of the peas spreading to her entire face. She threw the peas across the room in a huff, where they burst open, the frozen peas rolling across the floor, sounding like hail. She watched them roll across the laminate flooring, wondering when she'd gotten so violent.

Harley figured it was since she'd taken up the Joker's case. He was rubbing off on her. He was changing her, she realised with such a stomach churning epiphany she thought she was going to be sick.

She was also beside herself with worry. She had no idea what had happened earlier, one minute she was next to the Joker, next he'd socked her one in the eye. She wasn't sure why. Harley gnawed on her lip, worried she'd said something that had upset him.

Harley rolled over on the sofa and cried, cried until she felt like she'd been completely dried of tears. She cried about the Joker, about her whole life. She tried to cry some more, not quite venting everything she felt, but nothing happened. She desperately wanted to go back to work, to see him, even if only for a minute, but her boss had told her she was to spend at least a morning off. A morning was all she got? Not that it mattered, she wanted to go back right now.

_Break me out of here, baby._ Joker's words swam around in front of her eyes. How the hell was she going to break him out of there? Arkham had the highest security available in Gotham City – that didn't stop him the first time, Harley thought to herself darkly with a chuckle. She wondered how he did it. He needed a retina scan for starters, and a swipe card. Maybe he wouldn't break him out. She liked him being in there, as much as it pained her to think that. There were ways to break him out, but she hadn't figured them out yet and she didn't seem to want to.

_Harley suddenly found herself craving for information on how he killed that night nurse. She craved every little detail, wanting to know every movement, every thought he had, how much blood_... She craved all this and the Joker so much she thought her heart was going to fail her as it drummed wildly in her ribcage.

_Joker scowled at the wall. He was so bored, bored of being here, in this God forsaken room, bored of being so fucking alone_. The Joker had been alone most of his life, even when he was a young boy, and honestly, he couldn't really remember that far back. Maybe it was his mental shields that he'd put in place, ignoring the memories, or maybe his brain had suppressed the memories so far down into his unconscious mind that he'd learned to keep them there, without even thinking about it.

He remembered his mother. She was a beautifully distorted woman. Joker couldn't remember if it was a drug problem, or an alcohol problem that had corrupted his mother. Either way, they were both demons that had equal chance of inhabiting his mother's broken vessel, her soul and spirit had long ago been destroyed.

Joker knew all about demons. They've lived with him ever since he was born. Somehow, he'd swallowed one at birth. It clawed away at him, everyday. He'd always felt, slightly at peace with them. They'd been there all the time, they were a part of him, part of what made him the psychotic clown he was. They were something he could familiarise himself with, he didn't like foreign things much. Now he found himself with a new demon, one that he's actually fighting.

_Joker screwed his eyes shut, rocking backwards and forwards. Harley – no, he didn't want to think about her. His psychologist_, whom he wanted to consider a completely person to_ Harley_, had told him that he was in a state of denial. He'd scoffed at that. He was completely aware of everything he was, everything he still is and everything he'd done.

"The past is past, Doctor." He had said, shrugging at her, when she'd said she thought he was denying a lot to himself.

"Still, it helps to talk about these things." Harleen said, tapping her pen lightly and patiently on her clipboard. Joker leant towards her in his chair slightly;

"Who says I want to talk about these things?"

"So you admit, there's things?" She observed. Joker leant back, defeated. "Are they like, demons?"

Joker stared at her. He shrugged, looking away. Harleen looked at him patiently, waiting for an answer. He sighed and rolled his eyes towards the heavens, knowing she'd sit there all day until he answered her.

"I suppose." He mumbled. Joker hated exposing himself to her, opening up, but he found he told her the truth at the oddest times. He knew he'd think that again soon.

"Can you describe these demons?"

"_See Doc, you can see _these demons."

"_I can?" Harleen asked, momentarily puzzled, until she noticed the Joker indicating to himself, a slight gleeful look on his face. She realized that Joker meant he is_ the demons.

"We all have demons, Joker." She said, surveying him carefully, her perfectly plucked and shaped eyebrows furrowing slightly, her perfect skin breaking out into lines.

"Really, tell me some of yours, doctor."

"We're not analysing me." Harleen said, lifting her chin up in defiance. He noticed she does that. Alot.

"I tell you what. If you want to analyse me, I have to analyse you."

"Joker-"

"_Come on. What have you got to hide?" Joker said, folding his arms, knowing there was alot_ that Harleen Quinzel was hiding. He could tell by the look in her eyes, the way she was always fumbling with her fingers, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear which he found to be quite charming. He knew she wasn't nervous around him at all, which made _him_ nervous.

"This is only our second session, Joker. I need more on you first." She looked down at her blank sheet on the clipboard.

"Ah ah. You see doc, this will work like a vicious circle. You'll try to get information out of me, but I won't give you anything until you share what's hidden behind your perfect breasts." Harleen's cheeks flared up instantly, the exact reaction he'd wanted from her.

Harleen sighed before huffing out;

"Okay, Joker." She capped her pen. "Ask me one question, then I ask you a question. Deal?

"Willing to shake on it, doc?" He said, his lips curving into a smirk.

Joker also knew the reason for his mother's corrupt soul. His father. Oh, he hated his father with an undying passion. He was the reason his mother was lying six feet under the polluted sky. He'd hit her, like he normally does, pushing the Joker away from him as he tried to run towards her. She'd fallen, slicing her head open on the side of the kitchen table, or something like that.

His memory was a bit foggy. Joker liked it that way, didn't like to remember. The day of his mother's funeral however, was a memory he'd never forget.

Joker stood outside the hearse, not sure whether or not to go to the funeral. Fifteen years old and detached from his mother in every way possible. Ripped from her. He knew this would mess his head up even further that it already was. He had his father to thank for that, like every other shit thing in the world, in his life. He had enough problems to deal with, he didn't want to have to think and witness putting his mother in the ground.

Joker shuffled his feet, finally deciding he should. Opening the black shiny car he got in, not bothering to put on his seatbelt. All the time there, all he thought about was opening the car door again and flinging himself out, leaving it up to chance whether he got run over or not.

His life in Gotham City was depressing. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there, go abroad somewhere, maybe. Joker wasn't at all into the whole ambition thing, he couldn't see himself sitting in a bank, or sitting in court defending someone. That thought repulsed him. Ever his father's son, he was just as obnoxious as he was.

He couldn't think about the fact that his mother was going to be in the ground soon. She might have been suffering, but she was always there for him as best as she could. He'd had a tough childhood, watching his mother get beaten up, then taking some of the beatings for himself. He was beaten, bruised and broken, and his mother always added another B to that too; Beautiful.

They had reached the outskirts of the graveyard now, and Joker had slumped so far down in his seat that he couldn't see over the top of the door where the window started. He hoisted himself up with some reluctance and scrambled out the car, slamming the door shut. Joker walked slowly over the ceremony, he was about five minutes late.

Everyone looked up as he approached, sad looks in their eyes for the loss of his Mother, and he could see sympathy in their eyes. Something seemed to snap inside him. He didn't want their sympathy, he didn't want anything from them. Just his mother back. Joker looked back at them passively. A woman at the back of the crowd suddenly burst into hysterical tears, sobbing into a handkerchief. The noise startled Joker and everyone else, who just like that, followed suit as the guy in the black robes finished paying his respects. He was quite glad he'd missed that actually, he didn't want to hear all that heart felt stuff.

It started to rain as the Joker stood there, watching his mother being lowered into the ground. Her coffin was quite nice actually, despite the fact that Joker had grown up not quite the richest kid in Gotham City. He knew all eyes were on him, expecting him to cry or at least feel something. But he didn't. He felt absolutely nothing, and momentarily it scared him. Maybe he was just numb.

_Joker stood there, suddenly hating life, the world and everyone in it. He blamed God for this, God was the soul reason that his mother was dead. Joker was all alone in the world now, at just fifteen. He'd had his mother taken away from him. He felt like someone had taken his heart. He loved her. What had he ever done to deserve this? What had she_ done? We all have demons, he'd thought bitterly. Both she and he had done nothing, _nothing_. God was just a kid playing on the sand, with no fucking clue about life, letting the burning grains slip between his fingers.


	5. You Taste Like Coffee

**PART V.  
You Taste Like Coffee**

It was 1 o'clock by the time Harley decided to go back into work. Her boss had made sure she went to see a nurse about her eye, much to her dislike. She'd tried to shake him off, telling him she'd applied a cold pressure to it blah blah blah, but he wouldn't listen.

So there she was, sitting on the little leather bed in the medical room, while the nurse examined her eye.

"Can you see out of it, Dr Quinzel?" The nurse asked as he shone a little light in her eye, her pupil constricting.

"Yes." Harley answered impatiently, drumming her fingernails on the leather bed.

"Well, it seems to be okay. I just want to check one more thing." The nurse said, smiling at her. That was it, Harley couldn't take this any more. She dropped down off the bed, her stilettos making a harsh clink on the concrete flooring.

"I don't have time for this." Harley said, picking up her briefcase and pushing past the man who tried to protest her leaving.

"Look, I'm leaving right now whether you tell me to or not." Harley said irritably, giving him a cold stare before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

The Joker had certainly begun to change her, much to her delight. She relished being a bitch, having a backbone, she felt so superior she felt like she could rule the world. She was so tired of being sad quiet spineless Harleen, the girl who was so controlled by her ex boyfriend that she couldn't think for herself. She knew that wasn't true, but still, she couldn't help but feel hurt all over again when she thought of what she'd heard the other staff whispering about her. They won't be saying that now, she thought darkly. They're all probably in the canteen, shit scared that I'll walk in any moment.

She hoped nobody else had noticed she'd only been like this since her sessions with the Joker. Harley nibbled her lip as she made her way down to the canteen to pick up a coffee.

Harley was right, of course, when she entered the threshold of the canteen. Everyone stopped what they were doing, staring at her with curious eyes. Everyone thought she looked different. Apart from her black eye, they couldn't pin point what it was exactly, but her once approachable self wasn't one they wanted to approach any more.

Harley sat down on her own at a table after picking up a cup of coffee and five lumps of sugar. She opened up the lid and dropped the sugar cubes in there, counting them as she did. She stirred for a very long time, her eyes glued to the warm mixture in front of her. Finally she put the lid back on and took a long sip, glancing around the room.

Lowering her cup with calm hands, she looked at everyone.

"What the hell are you all staring at?" She hissed, hard to keep calm once she'd opened her mouth. Everyone stared for a brief second before chatter broke out and the scraping of plates, like someone had hit the play button after a very long pause.

Harley ran her fingers through her hair before picking up her briefcase and coffee and exited the canteen. She desperately wanted to go to the Joker, but something held her back. She wasn't sure what it was, but she was sure something between them had changed in the great chasm that was between them. He might tell her things, when he was in the mood, and she might have told him things, and they might be close, one could even say, but there was still a great big gulf between them. Despite that, there was something. It felt something like hope, Harley realised.

_They were on opposing ends of a tide. The tide would push the other further away from them. She always felt she was reaching out to him. She knew he found it hard to accept emotions and feelings, she knew that without him telling her, but would he really_ not accept her?

Harley sighed and walked down to the Joker's room anyway. She disposed of her coffee in the nearest bin, her appetite disappearing rapidly. She gestured to the guards to move along down the corridor a bit.

"But Miss, we have strict orders to guard this door." One said. Harley looked him in the eye, a dangerous glint in her own, one that very much resembled the one the Joker's eyes homed.

"Well, I am ordering you, as charge of the Joker's case, that you remove yourself immediately."

"But Miss you were socked one in the eye!" The other guard sounded shocked.

"And it's fine, it happens all the time in this field of work. Now, move out of my way." She said, using the retina scan and swiping the card.

The guards moved down the corridor a bit.

"Further." They obliged, moving to the very end of the corridor. She sighed in relief and entered the Joker's room.

For a moment, she panicked. She couldn't see him. Then she heard his breathing from underneath the bed.

Harley left her briefcase by the door, which had slid shut. She kicked off her heels and removed her lab coat. Sitting down on the floor beside the bed, she simply said;

"Joker?" Harley didn't look under the bed, feeling like if she did she'd invade on his personal space and privacy. He didn't reply for a moment or two, then he reached a hand out to find hers which was flat on the floor. She jumped for a moment at his touch, then smiled to herself.

"What are you doing under there?" She asked.

"Thinking." Joker replied, staring at the bed above him.

"About?"

"Alot of things." Harley knew she wasn't going to be able to ease anything out of him right now.

"I thought you were claustrophobic?" She said suddenly, remembering that she'd noted it down in one of their sessions. The Joker froze.

"How do you know that?" He asked.

"I-I uh, observed it."

"_What do you mean, you observed_ it?" The Joker asked, not moving his eyes from the bed.

"Well." Harley breathed, staring at the wall beside her, stretching her legs out. "One day you seemed very..agitated, your hands were sweating and your eyes kept darting everywhere. You kept tugging at your collar, and you always seem to take an item of clothing off when we have sessions."

"So." Joker said, defiantly.

"Common signs of claustrophobia." She concluded. Damn, she was good. More than he'd anticipated, actually. "Removal of clothing to relieve the stress of feeling enclosed."

The Joker was silent for a moment.

"Why?"

"Why what?" He snapped.

"Why, if you're claustrophobic are you under a bed?" She asked, finally lying down on the floor next to him. She scrutinized him. He screwed his eyes shut.

"_I fucking told you Harl, I'm thinking_." He snarled.

"How did it happen?" She asked, mildly curious.

"What happen?" He was getting annoyed now.

"Your claustrophobia?"

"Alot of reasons, Harl." Joker replied through gritted teeth.

"Well consider this a session." Harley said.

Joker turned around to look at her then, a hint of confusion on his face. He sighed.

"My father tried to suffocate me with a plastic bag." Joker said simply. Harley lay rooted to the floor in horror, and also amazed that he'd opened up a little bit more about himself to her.

"Why would he do that to you?"

"Because he hates me?"

There was a long silence.

"I don't understand, you seem to like the straight jacket.."

"Don't you get it? I'm a psycho, my problems aren't supposed to make sense."

"Why don't you come out from under the bed?" She said, attempting to shift over so he could get out, but his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Her chest thumped painfully.

"I like it under here." Joker said. Now he'd totally confused her.

"I'm confused-"

"Look, I'm thinking and talking to you, so I'm not thinking about the fact that I could loose oxygen under here."

Joker had a weird way of looking at things, she said. The only way to cure something was to give it a dose of itself.

"_So you want to just stay like this and talk?" Joker didn't reply. He felt different, all wrong!_ He wasn't snapping like he normally does, he didn't even want to_ vent._ Joker didn't feel like killing, or being verbally abusive, ironic, sarcastic, narcissistic, all the things that made him, _him_. In fact, he felt quite serene under the bed, his fingers locked around Harley's wrist. She kept him grounded. He was the boat, rising above the water and she was his anchor.

"I don't know what I want." He replied, eventually, honestly.

"Me either." She whispered. "Some days I feel like I know what I want, the next I have no idea." The Joker nodded his head slightly, knowing exactly what she meant.

"I feel different." She said, looking down at her hands. Joker twisted his head to look at her, curious. He noticed the bruising around her eye."I feel more violent."

Joker felt a pang in his chest, finally realising he was changing her just as much as she was changing him. He shrugged.

"People need violence in their life. Helps bring them to reality. Life isn't roses and rainbows you know." That was something, no matter how much Harley Quinn changed him, that he would always believe.

They were silent again for a long moment, Harley contemplating the fact that the Joker practically thrived off violence, Joker contemplating the fact that Harley literally saw life as 'roses and rainbows'.

"Do you ever.." Harley trailed off. "Regret what you have done?" She finished simply. Joker felt a strange lurch in his stomach.

"I don't feel Harley." He answered, lying.

"_Everybody feels_. Everybody feels emotions, everybody drowns in them." Harley said, making the Joker realise with a strange feeling that she was reminding him he was _human_.

"I haven't considered myself human for a long time." She smiled to herself. He had found her hidden meaning.

"Everyone is human, no matter what they've done."

"Even if they've taken another humans life?" He asked.

"Even if they've taken another humans life." She stated.

"You have a strange way of looking at things."

"You too."

Harley closed her eyes, not quite believing she was having an actual conversation with the Joker. This was the kind of information Arkham wanted, the kind of information straight from his heart, but she refused to write it down on her sheets. This was between him and her, Joker and Harley.

"I feel like I've changed overnight." Joker whispered. Harley opened her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know!" He almost yelled, his fist meeting the bed. A moment of..ugh he didn't know what, just that fuzzy feeling he got whenever he lashed out washed over him. Then in a heartbeat, it was gone.

"Is it a good thing?"

"I don't know. I never thought I'd change, I never really wanted to."

"Everybody changes. It's inevitable." She reminded him. He looked at her, eventually shifting his position.

"I want to get out." He said, as she moved over and he shuffled out, hoisting himself up onto the bed. Harley sat on the floor for a moment before getting up and sitting next to him.

"Why do you tell me so much?" She asked.

"Do you not want me to?"

"I do! I like that you do, it's just.."

"What?"

"You don't seem very open."

"_I was beaten to the point where I shut off to everyone else. My father, was a right arsehole, he beat me black and blue. He beat my mother too. How do you expect me to be able to trust anyone when that _was my childhood?" She noticed his fists were starting to clench. She put her hand over his clenched fists and smiled at him.

"You trust me." She paused before whispering; "You don't have to tell me this, you know." Melancholy clutched at her heart.

"I know!" He screamed, standing up, looking more like the Joker now than ever before. His eyes got that dangerous glint again, his hands twisting with each other. He looked away from her, punching the soft padding of the room. Harley didn't have the heart to tell him to stop.

"_You've changed me Harley, and I can't decide if I like_ it or not." Joker finally faced her again. Shaking, Harley stood up off the bed and walked over to stand in front of him. She looked up at him, at his tired face. She ran her delicate fingertips over his scars, carefully lingering over each one. Joker closed his eyes. No one had ever touched his scars before.

"You've changed me too." Harley whispered. Joker desperately wanted to kiss her, but every nerve in his body was on edge, he wasn't sure if he could do that yet. If he was stable enough.

_He opened his eyes, to find she was ever so close to him. His claustrophobic instincts kicked in, he wanted to push her away, she was sucking up his oxygen. But at the same time, he wanted her to stay there, he kind of...liked_ how close she was, while hating it too. Joker could feel her breath on his lips, hot and demanding. He knew she was waiting for it. He _wanted_ it.

Joker wrapped a hand around her neck and with a moments hesitation and a very, very deep breath, he leant down close and kissed her, his lips brushing against hers. Joker felt that feeling suddenly rise and boil over, finally crawling up out of him. She felt it too, crawling up from the pit of her stomach with such eagerness. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as his hands moved hesitantly to her hips. She pulled away slightly.

"_It's okay." Harley whispered reassuringly, sensing it's uncertainty. Joker rested his head on hers for a moment, not sure he could do it again. It completely messed him up, that feeling had finally reached it's peak and was filling every crevice and dark corner of his body, of his soul_. He felt strangely clean, like she had purified him in a space of a minute.

_Harley was surprised, she half expected him to throw her up against a wall, or be violent in any kind of way. Then she realised with a warm heart that she'd changed him. She_ changed the Joker.

Harley kissed him again, the energy between them shocking her lips, as she moved them against his. He was quite frozen, not quite sure whether to respond or not. She tugged lightly at his lips, parting her own, trying to force a response. He did, after a moments thought. He moved his lips against hers, tasting her lips. Sliding his tongue in her mouth he tasted her own tongue, the inside of her cheek as he walked her backwards into the wall. Harley slid her hand through his greasy green hair as he stroked her hips, absent-mindedly.

Joker pulled away, leaving them gasping for breath, their own coming out in short hot bursts. She smiled at him, as he smiled at her. Softly, he whispered; "You taste like coffee."

**I was going to put 'The End' but it doesn't feel right.  
I don't think I'm going to write any more, I like the ambiguity of the final part.  
You can either conclude he remains in Arkham, or that they somehow break out together.  
(I personally like to think he remains in there)  
Either way, I hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading and please R&R! :)**


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